


Kiss My Ass.

by ritsuko



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock & Ball Torture, Dirty Talk, Dry Sex, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, No Lube, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Orders, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Role Reversal, Sexual Coercion, Surprise Buttsex, just following orders, shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumlow thinks he's about to have a little fun after a mission. </p>
<p>He's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss My Ass.

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this lovely prompt](http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/587.html?thread=547659#cmt547659) on the HYDRA Trash Meme. :3

A mission with the Winter Soldier is always a surefire win. 

He can see the soldier's eyes glinting darkly at him from across the air transport, and knows it's just the two of them for the next couple hours, the pilot securely behind a foot of metal.

Brock is sure that the soldier knows what will happen. Being in the deep freeze always seems to keep a small part of muscle memory in the man, as if certain places and situations make him know that he's about to get fucked. But post mission, there's an adrenaline high that just makes Brock hard and ready.

No better place to stick it than the obedient man in front of him.

"Come here."

The soldier stares at him, brow furrowing, and for a moment, Brock thinks that the other man might rebel.

But he rises, comes to stand before him.

"Kneel down." 

The soldier complies, baleful eyes glaring up into his own, and Brock can't help but smirk. The brunette is still muzzled, like a viscious dog, but Brock knows that he will follow any order given to him to a T.

"Unzip me." The soldier's right eye twitches, obviously irritated. He reaches a hand over, but Brock clucks his tongue at him as if he is a small child. "With your teeth."

A moment more, the soldier gazes defiantly into his eyes, but then reaches to his back neck to unclasp the face mask. Slowly, he pulls it away to reveal pursed lips, over what he is sure are grit teeth. But those perfect lips separate, mouth bowing down to his crotch as he nips at the little metal slider hidden beneath the fly. The pressure against his hardening cock lessons as it bulges out of his pants. 

The soldier flicks his gaze at the bulge, unimpressed. Brock almost slaps him, but the carnality in those eyes stills him. Instead, he growls, "Suck me off. And don't you dare bite."

With a frown, the soldier only blinks in response. Then, he starts pulling Rumlow's cock from the restraining fabric. Brock grunts in appreciation, the flesh fingers of the asset's hand whisper soft and sure. Once those plush lips are past his glans, it turns into a full on moan. As the other man works his way down his shaft, throat constricting, he also pulls Brock's pants around his ankles. Rumlow doesn't care, it's warm enough in the transit, and the soldier is kneading his hips like a cat pawing contentedly at a plush carpet. The STRIKE force member doesn't really give a shit as long as he can bust his nut.

The tables turn so fast it nearly makes his head spin. One moment, he's in that slick heat to the root, and the next, he's blinking stupidly up at the asset, metal hand vice-like around his dick.

The first thing he thinks is that the fucker has been out of cryo too long, to be able to disobey like this.

The second is absolute shock at how quickly he's been derived of his weapons, tossed to the other end of the transport along with his earpiece.

The third makes him pale; because he really doesn't want the soldier to rip his dick off.

He should have known better, not to play with fire, not to poke the bear. There had always been rumors in the past that some hadn't come out unscathed in encounters with the soldier, and their luck had run out. Yet it's hard to believe that this is actually happening to him, that the tables have turned so quickly.  
"What the fuck do you think you're-"

"Zatknis'." The soldier clips him, cold metal fingers squeezing slightly, teasing along his shaft. His lip curls slightly upwards as Brock's face blanches. "You'll be quiet. You say anything, and you lose it."

There's no secret about what 'it' is.

Brock can feel rage flooding back into him, that the asset would dare. But there the other man is, unzipping his pants. When his cock springs free, Rumlow loses it. "Are you kidding me, you fucking cockslut?! I am going to fucking destroy you if you don't fucking-"

The hand grips tighter, and Rumlow chokes back a scream of pain. He's seen these fingers bend metal, there's no doubt what they're capable of. They ease up, but only slightly.

Head cocked, the soldier stares at him again, calculating. "That was your final warning. You'd better hold your tongue if you know what's good for you."

"Kiss. My. ASS." Rumlow grits out, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. His cock feels like it's going to be squeezed into nothing. The asset's eyes narrow to slits.

"If that's an order, _sir_." He sneers out, and Brock doesn't think he heard him right. But then that brunette head bobs down between his legs, and he can feel a hot stripe of saliva making its way down the cleft of his ass. His eyes widen, the fucking soldier can't be serious.

But then he feels hot, moist breath against his hole, and suddenly the asset's tongue is pushing into him. The noise he makes is like an indignant squawk, that undulating muscle past his rim and probing inside, invading him. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it feels strange. Rumlow's never been the type of guy to receive before, no matter what the circumstance.

That tongue swirls deeper, and Brock is surprised to feel his cock perk in the asset's steel grip. He can barely see those gray-blue eyes staring up at him between his legs, but the other man notices, and his grip slacks slightly, enough for blood to fill his cock, but not what he would consider comfortable.

Deep inside, that tongue flicks over a spot, and Rumlow's hips jerk, arousal flooding him. Those eyes gaze up at him with a grim satisfaction, and the soldier attacks that sweet spot, tongue like velvet at he repeatedly lavishes it over and over. Rumlow's eyes start to roll back in his head, lip clenched between his teeth. His cock is throbbing, filled out and heavy.

He won't come from this. He can't, he's not some fucking cockslut bitch. He's not-

A choked whine escapes his throat as the asset starts rolling his balls, the warm fingers moving over him expertly. Rumlow's seen him flick a knife through all his fingers before, so between the tongue in his ass and this, the feeling is overwhelming, heat pooling in his belly.

Suddenly, the tongue is gone, and Brock's body betrays him, hole twitching at the sudden loss. The soldier isn't smiling, but looks smug nonetheless. Rumlow can only watch helplessly as the other man presses his cock against the tight pucker of his ass.

Brock makes a strangled grunt at the intrusion. It hurts, but at least there's saliva slicking his hole instead of nothing. The asset is a lot more kind that he has been when it comes to some form of lubrication. 

"Are you okay back there?" 

Rumlow's eyes go wide, the soldier's eyes hard and calculating, metal fingers twitching around his engorged cock. He could say something, scream out for help, but the chances that the asset will rip his dick of and force feed it to him before he can get some help are higher than the chances that he'd like to take.

"How do you think I am, asshole? I'm enjoying my down time. Shut the fuck up and fly the plane!" He snarls, lacing as much irritation into his voice as he can muster. If he can just get through this, maybe he'll be in one piece on the other side. 

The asset gives him a look of dark approval. Brock can see just how much the other man is enjoying the power that he has over him. "Good boy." He murmurs, sarcasm lacing his voice. Brock can feel himself start to shake with rage. He's heard Piece lay the endearment on the asset before, like rewarding a dog for learning a new trick.

"You wanna fuckin' get this over with?" He growls, daggers in his gaze. "You better fuckin' enjoy yourself, because when we get back, you are going to be in a world of shit. I am going to make sure that each and every member of my team gets to do anything and everything they have ever dreamed of to you." He seethes, voice straining more and more the further that the other man pushes in. A look comes over the asset's face, and Brock knows his goddamn mouth has gotten him into trouble again. 

The Winter Soldier slams into him, no slow going, no pretenses, just fury and utter dominance. Rumlow bites the inside of his lip hard enough to taste blood, hard enough to keep himself from screaming. He feels something tear, the asset's cock too much all at once. As that cock pulls out and back in, it gets slicker, and Brock knows he's bleeding inside. He sees stars, it fucking hurts like he's being stabbed over and over again, but he manages not to scream, not to make a noise. If he's going to die in the back of a plane with the Winter Soldier raping him, he's not going to give the man the satisfaction of hearing him hurt.

Then the other man hits that spot, and it's like Rumlow's gasping for air, trying to hold on to each and every bit of his training to not make any noise, to not give in to the pleasure that's slowly starting to course through his body. His lip is bleeding now, he can feel it dribbling down his chin. But he remains silent, save for an occasional grunt.

"Does it feel good being used? Being my slut?" The asset asks, sharp words cutting through the air. "You sit here and pretend you don't like it, but I can feel you. Like you're sucking me in." His tone is dark, and Rumlow wonders how many times these words have been said to the man, if he's just parroting back everything that's ever been said to him. Having been trained to be the perfect weapon, he's just using everything that he has to the best of his abilities. "Come now, don't be shy. You talk big, but I'm sure you're enjoying this. You just won't admit it. After all, what would your team think? Rollins? I've seen how close you are. Hell, I wonder what Pierce would think knowing his lead agent probably would love to be a cum dumpster."

It's the most that he's ever heard the soldier talk, so it's obvious something is wrong. Who knows, the last time that he was frozen, maybe it scrambled his fucking brain. Brock wants to scream at the other man, fight back and show him where his proper place is, but pleasure is coursing through his body, and he can't help but breathe in jagged bursts of air through his nose.

Those metal fingers start moving on his cock, and it's fucked up just how good it feels. His skin has warned them and they're so fucking smooth. The asset's not trying to crush his dick anymore, just stroking him root to tip. His body starts to jerk, uncontrollably battling the will to not enjoy this, and trying to embed the other man further into the heat of his body.

The soldier stares at him grimly, thrusts hitting his sweet spot every time, until he can't help it. He comes, screaming hard, jetting onto his own shirt. A split second later, the asset is shooting deep within him. His scream tapers into a gurgled moan as heat fills his belly, the other man's jizz filling him. The asset keeps fucking him shallow, milking out every last drop before pulling out and wiping his cock on Rumlow's leg.

Brock just lays there in shock for a moment, watches as the soldier zips up and dully goes back over to his seat. Warily, Brock sits up, wincing, eyes on the other man the entire time. The asset doesn't even look up, just slowly latches his face mask back into place, awaiting orders. Sitting dormant.

After what seems like hours, Brock moves, taking his stained shirt off. There's nothing to be done with the mess of his ass, he can only wipe awkwardly at it before he tosses the shirt into the corner and pulls his pants up. Slowly, he makes his way past the soldier, grabs his earpiece and weapons. The asset won't even look up at him. Desperately, he wants to shove his knife into the other man, over and over again. He works hard to keep the rage down. 

With a wince, he sits as far from the other man as possible, trying hard not to think of the come packing his insides. 

The asset will pay, but not here, not now. Despite what he wants, bringing harm to Pierce's prize attack dog will bring him nothing.

+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

The asset waits calmly in the small holding cell, staring at a crack in the wall. He knows its just a short amount of time until he will be put into cryosleep again, and fights his body's flight reaction. He has to do as he's told, always. He tries not to think about Rumlow's flushed face, his cry upon reaching completion. It makes him feel vulnerable, like he feels every time he has ever been used.

It doesn't matter. It was only a mission.

The door opens, and he doesn't even need to look up to know it's Pierce, designer shoes clacking against the cement. He keeps his gaze trained on the wall.

"I take it the mission went well?" He asks, and the asset nods in affirmation. "I didn't hear about anything out of sorts, so I am assuming everything went according to plan?"

"Yes sir," He states, quietly but firmly, enough so the other man will know he is being honest. Pierce chuckles darkly, and takes a step closer.

"I'm glad you followed through. Sometimes people need to be showed their place. They need to know that they can only have as much as they are given. You understand, right?"

The soldier nods, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Pierce's hand come up to stroke his cheek softly. He has to bite the inside of his lip to not shirk away.

"Good boy." Pierce croons. "Good boy."


End file.
